interesting religions

wow this thread turned out really interesting! i’m definitely checking out king of dragon pass but heck all of these thoughts about religion and the forming of myths and stuff are pretty fascinating.

a pretty huge (in spain at least) form of catholicism comes to mind, where worship to the virgin mary is spread out in a panoply of titles (“advocaciones”), usually tied to places of worship, miracles, or divine aspects, which have their own particular myths and imagery associated, while being explicitly the same entity. in practice, people’s devotion and loyalty is usually with regards to specific virgins, and you’ll rarely see someone being fervent about virgin mary as a nonspecific figure.

somewhat unrelatedly, i’m also thinking about how videogames can portrait the ideas of faith and devotion, when they are so hopelessly bound to logic. i’m talking about instances where the player can partake in that faith somewhat. religion as a game mechanic seems to be “gameable” by definition and turns into a system for the player to figure out or exploit. on the other hand, actual randomness (as seen in the “wish” thing in nethack and the likes) is an explicit absence of divine will, and while it conveys unpredictability, it certainly doesn’t encourage faith either. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

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I particularly like games that encourage the player to engage in ritual, which is an interesting parallel to the arcane rules-obeying gameplayer’s mindset.

I don’t have access to it right now but I’ve got a half-finished essay about explicit rituals in games, segments that require the player to act out a symbolic role and repeat it several times. I believe Skyward Sword pushed hard (clumsily) on this, though at that point it was aping Shadow of the Colossus’ ritualistic sinning/ablution cycle.

Morrowind has a very long and arduous pilgrimage that gets at the idea of doing something to walk in the footsteps of saints; rewards are not explicit but each stopping point deepens your understanding of the journey, particularly how your trek to that point of pilgrimage relates to the saint’s myth.

Mechanics shrouded in mystery, particularly with random results, inspire player communities to create rituals and superstitions:

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gosh i still need to play this huh

If you ever decided everything your parents and society told you was a lie,

yeah, you should play Morrowind

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i have decided that!! what a coinkidink

This might be common knowledge in Spain, but one thing I learned recently is that Virgin Mary worship had very grassroots origins. She was being worshiped as far back as the previous millenium, but the Catholic Church waited until the 19th century to make immaculate conception a dogma. There’s a push-and-pull of the church repeatedly getting infused with the energy of local practices like this, which it was sometimes ambivalent or hostile to if they seemed to reflect different values.

There’s Dak’kon’s religion in Planescape: Torment. He was once a spiritual leader but developed heretical views that ultimately led to the destruction of his city. He still carries a holy text that he (and potentially the player) can study:

Unbroken_circle_zerthimon

I think it’s interesting that The Legend of Zelda includes vague references to Christianity, such as a cross on the shield and book (which is apparently called the Bible in the Japanese game).

link_blue

Interesting because I like to think of the implications of a real-world religion existing in a fantasy world. (There’s a He-Man Christmas Special, for example.)

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It’s what happens when you let time and space turn non-linear because of an event called a Dragon Break, which is generally believed to occur when mere mortals start dabbling in divine matters. Skyrim has the boring plothole filling “WELL THE PAST COULDN’T DEAL WITH THIS DRAGON FIRST-BORN FROM THE GOD OF TIME SO LET’S SEND HIM INTO THE FUTURE SO IT BECOMES OUR GREAT-GREAT-…-GREAT GRAND NORDS PROBLEM.”

Then there was this religious group called the Alessian Order who was largely monotheistic; one abstract and unknowable god and existing pantheons were just various aspects of this entity. They were also relatively racist to elves. One sect called the Marakhati Selective took that to ridiculous extremes (as zealots usually do) and proclaimed that because time was by its nature linear Akatosh (the god of time) was or should be a unitary essence. However there was a small problem: they could not for all the rituals and philosophical dancing disprove the influence of the elves on this god. So instead of tolerating this as universal fact and giving it up as a lost cause, they instead decided to exorcise the elven aspect through Greate Magicks…

This broke time for a thousand years and was a confusing situation for everyone living on Tamriel.

The best part is that there’s a book in Morrowind (Dragon Break Re-Examined) from some scholar snootily dismissing this ever happened and was just, in fact, merely a way to explain away historical inconsistencies in the Tamriel’s version of the Encyclopedia Britannica.

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time to install morrowind i guess

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It occurred to me just now that Bastion has sort of an interesting polytheistic religion that also affects the gameplay, although the whole thing is really just an excuse to have difficulty modifiers.

But I really like the idea of a religion where the gods hate you, and invoking their name causes your life to get noticeably harder, even while you see benefits in experience and cash.

To be specific, these are all two-faced gods of usually-opposing forces, such as Purpose and Folly, Health and Atrophy, Thirst and Plenty, etc. My favorite is Roathus, god of Thirst and Plenty

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“The Gorging Host grows ever larger yet remains insatiable, His eyes awash in tears.”

I assume that the reason they actually never give you anything nice is because your people destroyed a significant portion of the world.

They even have a song:

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Gotta bring up Ultima. This has turned out to be rather long so I’m splitting it.

You probably know the basics: the creator of the series, Richard Garriott, unnerved by the implication that the most optimal way to play his very popular kill-the-foozle RPGs was to be a plague upon the world, stealing and murdering everything and everyone, devised the eight Virtues, perhaps the earliest example of a morality system in a game, and a pretty complex one. But unlike many more recent morality systems that seek to offer similar rewards for good and evil behaviors, the virtues reward only the good, as in an RPG context evil has always brought its natural rewards in the form of riches and strength.

Garriott argued the virtues were a philosophy, not a religion, but that’s rather silly given it’s a belief system with worship, shrines, clerics, paladins, sacred relics, a holy book and a prophet/messiah. Likely it was just a way to avoid controversy. Even more interesting, from that point on Ultima introduced a number of other belief systems in its world with almost each game. So here we go:

It all starts in Ultima 4. After three victories over evil, the newly established kingdom of Britannia is growing rich and indolent so its king, Lord British, establishes the virtues to guide his people to an age of enlightenment, and proclaims the Quest of the Avatar, through which an ordinary person should strive to embody all virtues and become a spiritual leader to Britannia. Naturally that person’s gonna be the player (who’s not so ordinary as he originates from Earth, not Britannia). So, while there are still dungeons involved the idea is to go on a pilgrimage and explore the world, learn what each virtue involves, live by it, visit its associated shrine (which necessitates finding both the shrine and the runic key to access it) and pray at it by reciting its mantra, which you also have to find. Lots of exploring to do to find all those things.

The virtues are based on three principles (truth, love and courage) which combined in different ways result in Honesty (don’t steal from chests or shops), Compassion (give money to the poor, don’t kill non-evil creatures), Valor (fight evil, don’t flee unless you’re heavily injured), Justice (basically be honest, compassionate and valorous), Sacrifice (give blood, get killed before your party members), Honor (solve quests, act in a just way), Spirituality (meditate at shrines) and Humility (don’t brag to NPCs). Each virtue has a hidden score that goes up and down based on your actions and once it’s high enough you reach partial avatarhood for that virtue by praying at a shrine. After mastering all 8 virtues you still need to gather eight virtuous companions if you haven’t already, take a trip down the final dungeon, which will test your knowledge of the virtues, grab its sacred book, the Codex of Infinite Wisdom, from the claw of demons and demonstrate your knowledge of the product of all virtues, Infinity. As a result of this ritual you become the Avatar, the spiritual leader of Britannia.

Note that while Lord British devised the virtues and built most of the shrines, they seem to exist within a broader natural order built around the numbers 8 (for the virtues) and 3 (for the principles). There are 8 cities, 8 dungeons, 8 other planets in the solar system, 8 moongates (basically teleporters) that predate the britannian virtues, as does the Codex and the shrine it was taken from. While when that game was designed that wasn’t really a consideration, you could take it to indicate he has at least partially based his religion on something that was already there, christianity-style. That’ll come up again later. Anyway, the virtues are the foundation for the games that follow.

In Ultima 5 the virtues, which should have been an ideal to strive for, have been turned into draconian law by an integrist religious dictatorship, so you’ve gotta fix all that. Mechanically, virtue practice has been simplified and is tracked by a single aggregate score, karma, so you can for example compensate for fleeing from weak enemies by praying regularly. High Karma gets you better prices in shops, less stat loss on resurrection and, more crucial to the game, there are things you can only do with high enough Karma, notably getting stat boosts by accomplishing each optional shrine quest in which you seek out a deeper truth behind each virtue by consulting the codex. It’s interesting to see how each virtue is twisted into law and then further explained. For example the law for Honor is “If you lose your own honor, you shall take your own life” while the codex’s pronouncement is “It is the guilt, not the guillotine, that constitutes the shame”. This has no mechanical bearing on your behavior though.

In Ultima 6 Britannia is seemingly overrun by demons, but it turns out they’re an organized civilization who were peacefully living far below the surface until some self-proclaimed holy warrior invaded their most sacred shrine of Singularity and claimed their holy book, the Codex of Infinite Wisdom. Oh heeeeeey so that’s why that book was already around. So yeah, the gargoyles as they’re really called have their own three principles and eight virtues culminating in Singularity. Really, while the names are different, all the numbers and symbols and the book are the same (in fact the codex predates the gargoyles too). Mechanics-wise we’re sticking with karma but the shrines are now used to level up (still by having the rune and mantra) so you sort of need to behave (still according to human virtues, not the gargoyles’).

For the following games the virtues and karma won’t be included in gameplay so consequences of stealing or killing are merely reduced to whether people (be it civilians, local law enforcement or your own party) saw you do it. You no longer have to strive to be the Avatar. Religion will take a different mechanical significance. That is to say, none at all in Ultima 7. For all its other merits this is an aspect where Ultima 7 drops the ball. This is a game where you can bake bread but can no longer pray. One could argue it’s consistent with its worldview but that’s mostly a coincidence. We’ll see all that next time.

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Religion-wise Ultima 7 starts with an interesting idea and then wastes it: it’s been 200 years since your last trip to Britannia (the idea is that the passage between Earth and Britannia is essentially going through the fourth wall so you, the player, don’t age at the pace most britannians do), magic has started disappearing and the virtues have fallen into disuse. They were perhaps too complex to understand and follow, and since you’ve been away for the last two centuries, unable to be their spiritual leader, you have become a mere historical figure at best, legend at worst. Instead a new religion has arisen, the Fellowship, which favors traditional churchgoing and donations and offers a simple system (unity, trust, worthiness) to help ordinary people face ordinary life. It would have been be an interesting evolution to contrast with the virtues if it weren’t immediately and blatantly obvious they’re a bunch or moustache-twirling villains incarnating exactly the two things the original post says to avoid: they’re both a thinly veiled allegory for scientology and a doomsday cult seeking to destabilize britannian society (through ritual murders, drug trafficking and disrupting magic) and open a pathway for the Guardian, an evil world-conquering entity. Ah well.

Ultima 7 part 2 brings religion back in focus by using its rituals as puzzles. You get three new religions, even. Well, two and a half. The game takes place on Serpent Isle, which was home to a now extinct civilization and has in more recent times been colonized by britannians who disagreed with Lord British and fled as he was establishing the Quest of the Avatar. The three settlement they established value Beauty over Love, prefer Truth to be kept to oneself and are only interested in Courage in combat.

Only that last group, the knights of Monitor, have established rituals. The first is that dead warriors are to be cremated and their ashes kept, as they believe ashes hold the power of the deceased. The practical in-game use of that is you’ll get a monetary reward for each dead knight you bring to the crematory (and the resurrection spell doesn’t work on ashes so you can’t abuse that specific loophole). The second rite is that when a would-be knight comes of age, they have to undergo a trial where their blood is mixed with the ashes of a powerful goblin chieftain, which summons their totem animal for a fight. The animal determines which of the knights’ commands they will serve under (bears are warriors, wolves tacticians and leopards mediators). The meat of the totem is used for the celebration feast of the new knight and its fur for their knight’s cape. The new knight also gets a facial tattoo signifying their command. While we’re at it, the ashes used in that trial aren’t the only thing they’ve taken from the goblins, there’s also a ceremonial helm which is given to the greatest knight. Naturally the player has to go through all that to gain their trust.

The second religion is the Xenkan monks. Xenka was an illiterate farm wife who got visions of the coming end of the world, and left her life behind to find someone who would take her seriously. The monks eventually formed to record her prophecy and try to help avert armageddon as Xenka disappeared, predicted to return when the time would be right. The problem is the prophecy is vague and hard to interpret and the monks have formed conflicting factions over whether or not they should try and change the course of events, which makes them rather ineffectual. Turns out they’re entirely to blame, too, as when Xenka returns near the end of the game you find out she’s a very blunt and direct person who dictated them a clear checklist which they then managed to obfuscate through decades of exegesis.

The third religion is the one practised by the Ophidians, that extinct civilization mentioned earlier whose ruins are all over the serpent isle and whose magic has been partially repurposed by the settlers. The Ophidians believed the world is held together by three great serpents, with the serpents of order and chaos in conflict and kept in check by the Great Earth Serpent. This is reflected in the way their society was shaped, with a group following Order (whose cities and shrines tend to be neat and symmetrical) and a group following Chaos (whose cities and shrines are as serpentine as a tile-based engine can allow), kept together by the much less numerous followers of Balance (whose shrine reflects both architectures). Each group was led by a Great Hierophant, with the Great Hierophant of Balance as their spiritual leader.

This is also reflected in the way their beliefs are organized: there are three forces of order (Ethicality, Discipline and Logic) and three forces of chaos (Tolerance, Enthusiasm and Emotion). Each force of order has to be balanced with the matching force of chaos as unbalanced each force becomes malevolent. For example balancing logic with emotion results in Rationality while logic without emotion becomes Ruthlessness and emotion without logic becomes Insanity.

The whole force thing is rather abstract but relevant to the game in two ways. The first is that you have to go through tests based on those concepts in ophidian shrines and temples (either by manipulating and combining objects representing those forces, or by being put into situations where you must demonstrate you follow a given force). The second is that the Ophidians are right. About everything.

That’s not really addressed in the game, but the virtues were a man-made (or gargoyle-made) system designed to bring out the best in people, while that whole serpent thing’s the absolute truth and the cause behind the coming apocalypse. See, the great Earth Serpent went missing, weakening balance and prompting skirmishes between followers of Order and Chaos until someone murdered the Hierophant of Balance, resulting in an all-out war between Order and Chaos. Order exterminated Chaos, tore their serpent apart and locked up the pieces, then the Order survivors left for another world. The resulting imbalance has been slowly building up and by the time the game starts the world is coming apart since the serpents aren’t holding it together anymore. The three more recent settlements mentioned earlier in fact each unwittingly embody the corruption of a force of Order and at the midpoint of the game the remains of the Chaos Serpent are released as the Banes of Chaos, wraiths that similarly embody the corruption of a force of Chaos each. They proceed to possess your party members and lay waste to the matching settlements.

It’s up to you to understand the Ophidian forces and visit their shrines to get the stuff necessary to trap the Banes, cure your party members and put the Chaos Serpent back together, which you ultimately only manage through the sacrifice of your party’s paladin, so that the power from his ashes (yeah, the knights were right about the ash thing) may be used to hold together the new Chaos Serpent. You also have to track down all the implements of the Great Hierophant of Balance so that you may perform the ritual that’ll bring the three serpents back together and mend the world.

The real problem with Serpent Isle is that the various shrines really feel more like puzzles than rituals. Puzzles built on the Ophidian system, sure, but puzzles still. The oft derided logical extreme is when you have to solve block puzzles involving solid blocks of Order and Chaos.

During the game you also get to meet some Fellowship missionaries who weren’t part of the inner circle and are genuinely distraught that their bosses really were doomsday conspirators, as they genuinely believe in the Fellowship’s surface ideals.

Ultima 8 is in many ways the beginning of the fall of Ultima, but for all its faults it does some interesting things ritual-wise. The basic idea is, this time round the local religions and their rituals form your magic system. This is both a good and a bad idea, as it’s super interesting for worldbuilding but the rituals are too fiddly and cumbersome and the results too underpowered to be really useful compared to the old method of “open spellbook, click spell”.

First, a word about the Zealans. They’re the extinct followers of an old religion, who worshipped gods of emotion (Love, Hate and a mediator between them). You get to visit the ruins of a temple but all you have to do is place a ceremonial shield on an altar to talk to the gods for some exposition. They’re a sideshow.

The main event is the Pagans, worshippers of titans, godlike embodiments of the four elements. The titans were wreaking havoc upon the land but they eventually struck bargains (sometimes reluctantly) with the Pagans to grant them safety and powers in exchange for worship, which resulted in four different religious castes.

Necromancers worship Lithos, the titan of earth. They’re in charge of the cemetaries, as buried bodies are to serve Lithos as his undead legions. In exchange, necromancers receive powers to summon and dismiss the undead and golems, and also to cause earthquakes. There usually just one Necromancer and their apprentice. When the Necromancer grows old or weak and senses death approaching, they’re offered by their apprentice to Lithos in a ritual sacrifice that signifies their soul will live on in undeath (whereas zombies and ghosts are usually mindless). Then the apprentice graduates to being a necromancer and a new apprentice is chosen. The apprenticeship consists of going through catacombs to visit past necromancers to learn one spell from each, then to go to Lithos himself for approval. If approved the apprentice must them inter the recently deceased necromancer. Then they have to go on a pilgrimage to the birthplace of the first necromancer and that’s where Ultima 8 being the beginning of the end comes in because that bit’s missing from the game. Yeah, QC was so good they just forgot to finish that quest. No biggie, you can skip it (if you realize it’s missing, which is trickier than it seems).

Anyway, necromancy is accomplished by mixing reagents (all natural things, soil, mushrooms, bits of wood or bone, blood) in a bag, which results in small talismans you can then use to cast the spells.

Tempests worship Hydros, the titan of water. All bodies that die in water end up in Hydros’ service, though that’s not because of a bargain but because Hydros takes what she wants in her domain. As the game begins she’s been trapped in a lake, left with just enough water to survive, and so the bargain struck was that in exchange for being left alive she would grant powers over weather (plus some fancy water walking) to her captor and all his decendants. Tempests have become the de facto royal bloodline, as being able to call down lightning bolts helps with making people respect your authority. As such it’s the one school of magic that you cannot learn (Hydros tricks you into freeing her but doesn’t give you the promised powers in exchange).

Theurgists worship Stratos, the titan of air. Stratos is actually pretty chill, she offered to teach her miracles free of charge. They’re focused on healing, protection and illusion (both causing and dispelling them, and including seeing through lies, though it only works on exactly one person in the whole game). Her most powerful miracle is resurrection, but this comes at the price of the user’s sight. Air spells are performed through the use of foci, silver tokens representing the spells. An apprentice has to mine silver for each focus himself.

Sorcerers worship Pyros, the titan of fire. They trapped him in a rock, actually. Sorcery rituals were probably the form of magic most advertised for the game and were somewhat controversial: to prepare a sorcery spell you need a pentagram on which you arrange candles and reagents (all volcanic things, ash, brimstone, pumice, but also demon bones) in a manner specific to each spell and a metal talisman in the middle, which will be “charged” with the spell for later use. Sorcery is all about setting things on fire (though you can extinguish them too), blowing things up and summoning demons to tear people apart. Sorcerers are led by a Master and hierarchically ranked as Acolytes under him. To become a sorcerer you have to find a sponsor among existing acolytes and go through a few tests that rely on using the right spell to survive. Once you’re a sorcerer the traditional method of climbing up the ranks is pretty simple: kill the sorcerer whose spot you want, master included.

Your goal in Ultima 8 is to leave that world, and you need the powers of all titans to do it. So the idea is to rise among the ranks of each caste, learn their ways and the weakness of each titan (they’re not quite gods and each has a secret artifact that channels their powers that you will happily pilfer, ending the ages-old contracts that bound them to mankind). Ultimately you destroy them all and become the sole new titan, earning the power to leave.

The final game, Ultima 9, has nothing to offer to this discussion. You’re back in Britannia and basically go through the motions of unlocking the shrines of virtue yet again, but the game doesn’t keep track of virtues so it’s all meaningless ritual-wise.

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Obligatory, and I deeply apologize.

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i like ultima a lot because many of its concepts, religion included, feel somewhat naive like you might find them in some dude’s 90s fantasy website and they do not care about being appealing or culturally valuable or even interesting, but really serious and committed anyway.

like every game is a big assortment of stuff and in order to enjoy all the good stuff it you also have to accept there’s a guy named “lord british” that rules the world and not laugh. it’s fucking great.

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a guy named lord british who is literally a self insert of the creator of the series, who also goes by lord british.

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next you’ll be telling me he’s forced to cut his padawan braid

What the hell I thought this was just some roguelike and there’s all this lore?

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yeah learning all this biz has definitely made actually playing the game much more intimidating for me

…well, the whole appeal of Qud as I understood it was that from the setting foundations up it was a roguelike that aimed to change the nature of writing in roguelikes, avoiding the classical kitchen sink with one-off microflavour + generic quests or the more contemporary specific character narratives. wielding together a not-quite-as-well-trod setting pairing of postpostapoclypse, procgen, piecemeal writing, non-hostile interactions to hint at a collective underlying lore just in the same way the standard procgen + permadeath dynamic feeds into figuring out how one manages to survive.

It’s not like such setting flavour is at all required to play the game either (cf. s o u l s b o r n e), It’s just that Qud tries to make learning a game’s world as roguelikes normally do concern multiple matters. The writing is meant to be shareably hilariously weird, anyway?

some day I’ll get around to a contemporary roguelikes megathread, or at least streaming + vocal practice with 20XX and Qud and Monolith and Spire. in that thread, though, I’ll ban talking about Dee Cee Ess Ess to minimize picking at my old scars like I’m about to do right now to provide actual topical material for the thread. classical roguelikes have always readily included unfaithful god-bothering as mechanical electives of guaranteed benefits and conduct maluses / play warping, and this extends to the collaborative game that has been worked on for a recent decade rather than an old one.

deities of particular mechanical-flavour interaction interest (and which I can't go and ramble about development drama all too much):

ash

  • [Ashenzari] was nailed to the sky in exchange for omniscence, and worshippers nail (curse) their equipment to themselves (mostly just mild annoyance, but it blocks swapping resists jewellery) and explore the world they’re kept away from. empowerment is a silver of divinatory knowledge… which most predominantly includes a boost to one’s skills, as well as the capability to see through walls. no monsters ever worshiped them.

chei

  • [Cheibriados]'s main domain is of time, and they want people to enjoy it through being contemplatively slow. one’s culumulative faith also slows one’s movement (extremely dangerous when retreating and repositioning are fundamental to battle tactics), in exchange for direct raw stats potency and a few time-warping tricks (including Slouch, an invocation that directly destroys those faster than the player). they solely have giant snails with natural lethargy auras.

ely

  • [Elyvilon] reifies healing, and while this includes obvious healing boosts one expends and gains piety both by invoking such restorative warmth onto foes in order to try and pacify them. there’s regular joking about this being a sort of brainwashing considering the arbitrary “holiness” prescribed to the deity, and it’s unavoidably weird that pacified monsters attack hostile monsters on their way to leave the level, but the notion of pacificism is there anyway… except that while hunger is a non-factor for the experienced in most contexts, one needs to go and eat raw dungeon flesh quite a ways more often with such divine expenditures. once more, no monsters here.

jiv

  • [Jiyva] is the sole faith of the Slime Pits, some cavernous civilzation long ago devoured by the formless. if one rushes through the hostile crowds to the altar at the bottom, Jiyva provides jelly friendliness, no opposition in front of that level’s progress token, and an ever-shifting set of positive body mutations. in exchange, such slime spread throughout the levels one visits, eating up a fair bit of the treasure and trash as normally litters the floor. the sole default worshipper of this figure is the Royal Jelly, normally a fixed dangerous boss for the level- killing it also makes Jiyva refuse one’s worship, for obvious reasons.

lucy

  • [Lugonu] is the embodiment of the fluctuating hyperspace mess that is the Abyss, and mostly collects attendants from low-level characters banished to such a place. while there’s not much beyond default murder in terms of ritual, there’s usually divine retribution if one abandoned an old god in exchange for an exit from such damnation. the denizens there include some neat eldritch monstrosities amongst demons and lost wanderers and whoever the player also sends there, and some day I’ll describe those monsters too.

qaz

  • [Qazlal] covers the elements, and provides an ever-raging storm that serves as protection, weapon, and extremely obvious loud warning signal to one’s opponents. as singling out and luring away smaller enemy counts is fundamental to most classical roguelike tactics, such dust and thunder destroying any notion of stealth serves as a severe cost in and of itself. the sole monster worshippers of them are the dragonfolk in the final level of Zot, who already naturally slot into the standard notion of dragon-colours-as-elements.

uskayaw

  • [Uskayaw] reads combat as dance, a celebration of sparring as revelry, and the usual accumulation of piety as a stat instead becomes a momentum meter that provides options of stomping the ground, sliding through foes, freezing others with one’s sheer grace… and with great skill expenditure the chance to telefrag. no worshippers, but if not for the turn-into-bounding-lightning enemies all being animals they’d probably fit perfectly.

xom

  • [Xom] the Random Number God famously just completely fucks with the player randomly.

you also may have noticed the alphabetical order here- it’s been a deliberate design philosophy that every deity gets a different letter of the alphabet, and as of since development trends having scared away most any content-creating volunteers there’s probably going to stay a slim two slots left in I and P. the sole exception of [The Shining One] (1) turned one dungeonspace to a stormy salt wasteland of standard cultist ruins to dethrone some blasphemous twins {Sheza-et-Sargol} (2), also thus discouraging any other numbers.

(gods are also Canonically Non-Gendered.)

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